


Take One

by Cloudnine101



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Curtain Fic, F/M, Gen, Ichabod Crane vs. the 21st Century, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"What do you mean, you are "recording" me? Is this something akin to the magic box?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Giving Ichabod a camera, in hindsight, was a mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take One

_1_

 

The recording's steady. Behind the camera, the sound a young woman laughing can be made out. 

"Smile, Crane," she says. "Look over here."

Crane's head turns. He's holding what appears to be a packet of washing powder. He is only visible from the waist up, and is stupefied. The top two ties of his shirt are undone.

"This is extraordinary," he says. "This method of cleaning clothing - if it had been made available to us during the war - "

"Yeah, yeah." The camera shakes, slightly. "I'm recording you, so act happy."

"Happy?" Crane pulls a face, and then blinks. His eyes narrow. "What do you mean, you are "recording" me? Is this something akin to the magic box?"

"Something like that," the woman snorts.

 

_2_

 

A shot of scenery blurring outside a car window. The camera focuses for a moment, and the blurs out again. The screen goes forwards and backwards.

"Lieutenant," Crane says, "this device baffles me."

The woman sighs in the background. "Have you turned it on?" she asks.

Crane huffs. "Yes. I can assure you that it is fully operational. It is simply that I cannot seem to keep it in place for longer than a moment."

"Use your other hand," the woman suggests. "Try the buttons on the side."

The camera is steadied. Crane makes a little noise of delight. The screen turns to the woman, who is biting her lip.

"Miss Mills," Crane says, "I thank you most sincerely. I believe I am now _fully_ capable."

"You're welcome," Mills mutters.

The car stops; Mills climbs out, brushing down her jacket.The camera follows her, occasionally dipping downwards. A group of men and women, wearing police uniform, are standing around a body, which has a sheet pulled up over it.

A tall, thin officer turns to meet them. "Lieutenant," he says, "care to explain what's going on?" He waves a hand, which Crane promptly zooms in on.

"Lieutenant Mills suggested that it may be useful for us to have some - record of our experiences, in case our knowledge is required again in the future."

Mills shrugs. "I bought it for him," she says. "He's not doing any harm."

The officer nods. "See that he doesn't," he says. "I'll leave you two to talk this over."

 

_3_

 

Cut to a shot of Mills with a blonde-haired man. He's smiling at her, and leaning in close. Mills shakes her head at him, but she's laughing, too.

The camera zooms in on them. Mills turns her head towards it, at which point it rapidly swings away, back towards the body. There is the sound of footsteps.

"What are we looking at here?" Mills asks. Her head is turned towards the corpse; she appears slightly nauseated, but resolute.

Crane hesitates. He says, "It appears to be - something of the supernatural. Precisely what our opponent may be, however - of that I remain uncertain. Whatever it is, we can be certain that it is related to - our tribulations."

"Best get working on it, then," Mills says, resignedly.

"Indeed," is the answer. "We must." 

 

_4_

 

An archive of some sort - bookcases line the walls. There is a long table in the middle, covered in papers. Crane is leaning against one wall, a book held one-handed. He's skimming through it with one finger, brows furrowed in concentration. After a while, he leaps to his feet, beaming, and says, "I think I may have landed upon our solution."

Mills holds the camera higher. "What have you got?"

Crane smiles brightly, humming with energy. "The implements we found at the crime scene, I believe, are part of a demon summoning ritual. There must be a group of the demon's - followers, if you like, somewhere within the town. The demon must have emerged, fed on the man, and then, presumably - "

"Disappeared."

Crane frowns. "Yes. That is a conundrum." He pauses. "It is unlikely that our monster will need to feed more than once in a forty eight hour period, whatever it may be. It will most likely be weak from its arrival to this plane. This gives us time. We will have to begin our investigations at first light. Somebody must have seen the worshippers."

"So, nothing more we can do this evening." The camera lowers a little. "C'mon. Let's get back. I don't know about you, but I could kill for a cheeseburger."

"I must confess to hunger, also, despite not having a craving for your - Big Belly's Burgers." Crane strides forwards, his coat flapping around him. "Lead the way."

 

_5_

 

Another clip. The room has changed, and has grown darker. Lamps are lit all around. There's a carpet, and a red sofa, on which Crane is sitting.

"Crane," Mills sing-songs, still in possession of the device. "Crane. Cra-ane."

Crane's head jerks to the side. He makes a shushing sound, and turns his attention back to the screen. "Please, Lieutenant. I am attempting to enjoy this to its highest quality."

"And I'm attempting to make some memories."

Crane's forehead furrows. His lips purse. "Have we not already, as you put it, made memories together? And not in the way in which you are no doubt thinking, judging by your expression."

"Sorry," Mills says, not sounding sorry at all.

Crane scoffs. "Predictability is an unseemly attribute." Despite his words, he smiles at Mills gently enough, masking it with a grumble. 

"What do you think we'll find, tomorrow?"

"I am certain that it will yield results. Hopefully, the demon will have been sighted by somebody in the neighbourhood. After that, it is only a matter of ascertaining where it has gone."

"Nothing too risky, then."

Crane laughs. He shakes his head. "That is arguable," he murmurs. "Risk, I believe, is formed by two main factors - the likelihood of success, and the importance of the objective."

"Well, this _is_ pretty important. And we don't have a whole lot to go on, here."

Crane turns away from her, to look at the television. "Every day I spent with Katrina, now that I consider it, was a risk. I wanted to marry her, even against the wishes of my closest friend and ally. Was that - worth it?"

The camera lowers. "I think," Mills says, "that if you loved her, the answer's pretty obvious."

Crane considers this, mouth open a touch. "Hm." He is silent, for a while. His chest rises and falls. "Tell me, is there any way in which the sound can be altered on this device? And - good God, what is that gentleman _wearing_?"

 

_6_

 

The day is bright and pleasant. There's a woman, standing on her front doorstep. Crane is holding the recorder. Mills is in front of him, talking: " - of the Sleepy Hollow Police Department. You contacted us about a - a sighting."

The woman nods. She peers suspiciously into the camera. "Who's that?"

Mills begins to reply, but is cut off by - "My name, Madame, is Ichabod Crane. I am Lieutenant Mills' partner. We are here to investigate the supernatural activity you bore witness to." 

The camera dips, sweeping down to the floor. When Crane emerges from his bow, the woman is flushed and smiling. "Well," she coos, "you'd better come on in, then, hadn't you?"

 

_7_

 

"I saw a creature," the woman's saying. "It was tearing off towards the forest, as fast as it could go. And all last night, there were these - noises. I live all the way out here alone, so I didn't have anyone to ask."

Mills nods sympathetically. "It must have been difficult," she says.

The woman's eyes slide over to the camera, and, presumably, to Crane. "Yeah," she whispers. "It was, a bit. Hey, I was wondering - forgive me for asking, but are you two - ?"

"Yes," Ichabod says. "We are good friends - compatriots, even, locked together in the eternal struggle against - "

"Our boss," Mills chimes in, "horrible guy. Would you mind waiting outside, Crane?"

The camera rises as Crane stands. "Forgive me," he says, "I did not wish to intrude. Fair lady, I bid you good day. Lieutenant, I will see you in as such a while as is your will."

As the screen turns, Mills is caught rolling her eyes and shaking her head. 

 

_9_

Night-time. It's cold; Crane's breath is misted. "The creature must have been summoned accidentally, and then, having escaped, it retreated towards an approximation of its former dwelling in Purgatory. It should be around here - " 

Cut to woodland. The camera's shaking wildly. Mills appears to be running with it. The views is of a dirt floor, occasionally interspersed by tree trunks and plants. The man and the woman are following some kind of path through the undergrowth. Mills is breathing raggedly.

"We must complete the ritual that was begun before our arrival!" Crane is yelling. "It is the only way to stop it!"

"We've gotta turn back," Mills says. "We're going the wrong - "

A blank. Static.

A shot of some kind of creature - all we can see, due to the angle, is its bottom half. It is tall and black; fangs and claws have been extended on its feet. The camera is lying sideways on the ground.

A woman's feet come into view in front of it. She's wearing boots.

There is a bang, as though a gun has been fired. The creature swivels, and begins to move towards her. Its footsteps echo.

"Now, Crane!" Mills calls out.

A blank. Static.

 

_10_

 

A shot of Crane sitting in a car. He's panting, his head lolling to one side against the rest. All we can see is his chin, for a moment, before the rest of his face comes into view. He's sending a breathless grin at Mills, who says - 

"Hey, Crane, did you know that the camera was on?"

 

_11_

 

Back at the house. Mills is humming. She's swaying from side to side; there's a tune playing on the radio. She's standing in a kitchen, the sunlight streaming onto her face. 

The camera's lurching and pitching wildly; it then evens out. "Lieutenant," Crane says, from behind it.

The woman jumps. "Crane! Don't _do_ that! You'll give me a heart attack!"'

The man chuckles. "My apologies. You spoke of creating memories, so I thought that finding you at your most relaxed would be the honest approach."

The woman eyes him, obviously unimpressed. "Yeah, well, give me some warning next time. I don't wanna embarrass myself too badly, okay?"

"Duly noted," Crane says.

Mills turns away, trying to hide her smile. "Turn that thing off. Remind me why I gave it to you?"

"Of course. If the charmed box makes you uncomfortable, I shall at once endeavour to - oh, good Lord, where is the - "

 

_12_

 

"Hey, Crane?"

The scene seems to have been shot by accident. The camera is wedged between the bodies of Crane and Mills; they're visible in its edges.

Crane's lying sideways on the sofa. Mills' head rests on his shoulder. "Abbie?" he asks. "What is the matter?"

Crane's hand brushes across her hip, in a gesture both possessive and intimate.

"The woman - you know, the one who summoned the demon? The one who reported the sighting, and - and tried to trap us?" Mills says. 

"Unfortunately, yes." 

Mills giggles. "She was flirting with you. Oh my God. Ichabod Crane, flirting with a demon worshiper. That - that is a _new_ low."

"She was hardly -  _flirting_. We merely conversed - " 

"Merely conversed my ass." Mills shoves Crane's shoulder. "You're gonna be having demon babies. Can I be the godmother? I've always wanted to do that." 

"If you do not cease in this," Crane can be heard to mutter, "I can always find another Witness." 

" - and I'll help you pick the names, and we can go to the park together, and - can I organise the baby shower?" 

"Is that the time?" Crane stands, knocking the camera to the ground. Her crouches, concerned. "It appears that we have been being observed." 

He reaches out, and closes the camera. 


End file.
